THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, March 28, 1996 TAG: 9603280037
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ELIZABETH SIMPSON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 119 lines
IT'S QUIET right now at the Children's Performance Workshop.
An orangutan puppet sits in a corner, his head cocked to the side. A long-haired, foam-rubber girl stands a few feet away with her mouth open in laughter. A penguin with a bow tie stands at attention, a propeller hat atop its head.
The puppets are silent and still, frozen in mid-laugh, but in the hands of their creator, Regina Marscheider, they make children giggle and sing and even answer pop-quiz questions.
The puppets also teach children about child abuse. And remind them of memories they'd rather forget.
And make them cry.
These puppets are the yin and yang of Marscheider's life. The laughter they inspire is music to her ears; the tears prove she's making a difference.
Seven years ago, Marscheider, who's also the founder of Spectrum Puppets, put together a show called ``Knock, Knock. . . Who's There?'' to help educate children on child abuse. In the show, Simon, an orangutan, tells the children about their conscience, an inner voice that tells them what is right and wrong.
``When I first started I thought, `If I can help one child, and break one cycle, then it will all be worth it.' ''
Since that first performance, more than 100,000 Hampton Roads children have seen the show, hundreds have come forward after the show to tell police investigators and social workers about their own worries about abuse, and their testimony has led the arrests of 44 people.
``The impact she has on children is unbelievable,'' said Norfolk Police Investigator J. Gary Ingram, an officer in Norfolk's sexual assault section. ``With all the sweat and hard work and charisma she puts into this, she deserves every credit she can get.''
Now Marscheider is trying to propel the non-profit show from a regional arena to a national one. She's taken the ``Knock, Knock'' production to 20 cities in eight states. She's developed an African-American version of the show - the puppets are being crafted in California - and she plans to start training puppeteers by the end of the year to direct the show in other states with the help of Crime Stoppers International.
But all this takes money. A Saturday event - ``Simon's Second Annual Kids' Fundango Festival'' - will help raise cash for the child abuse prevention efforts, and at the same time entertain children and educate their parents.
The nationally known singing group ``Parachute Express'' will headline the festival, which starts at 10 a.m. and runs until 4 p.m. at Oceana Naval Air Station, Hangar 122.
Marscheider's idea for the ``Knock, Knock'' show goes back to 1986, when a teacher at a Montessori school suggested she do a show to help children learn about child abuse.
Marscheider met with members of a sexual trauma unit in Virginia Beach to explore the idea. Their stories about abused childrenleft her devastated.
``I realized I had the ability and the responsibility to do something,'' she said. ``When you know you can do something and you don't, that's as bad as committing abuse itself.''
After consulting with experts in the field and adults who had been molested as children, she gave the first performance of ``Knock, Knock'' in 1991. The next year she added a ``safety net'' of trained professionals because children kept coming forward with their own stories of abuse.
The following year, a training video to help teachers and counselors recognize abuse in students - ``Go Ahead and Tell'' - became the third element of the show and won an Emmy award for best educational documentary.
By that time, the production was being shown in Virginia Beach and Chesapeake and had the support of city departments and civic groups throughout the area. A $66,000 federal crime bill grant took the show to Norfolk and Portsmouth schools this school year, and a schedule for Hampton and Newport News schools is in the works.
``It's consumed my life,'' Marscheider said as she sat surrounded by puppets in her Virginia Beach studio. ``There was a turning point for me where I realized you could entertain and educate at the same time. So I decided that every future program would have a social meaning. The shows have to educate. Entertainment for entertainment's sake is fun, but when you can make a profound difference in a community, that makes more sense.''
She can see the impact of the show in the faces of the children.
The child who wouldn't look at the characters but who only listened and cried. They little boy who started rocking back and forth in his seat. The girl who scraped her fingernails across her face when one of the puppets talked about how a relative made her feel dirty.
The children's testimonies after the show are even more powerful. One 6-year-old girl came up to Marscheider wiping her hands on her clothes. Marscheider asked the girl if she wanted to wash her hands, and girl said she wanted to get her mother's blood off her hands.
Police investigated and found out the girl's mother had been stabbed a few weeks earlier by the mother's boyfriend, who had also molested the girl.
``We've even had children whose cases have already been investigated and resolved come forward,'' Ingram said. ``They feel compelled to tell someone.''
Grown-ups have been brought to tears as well. Teachers, parents, cafeteria workers and reporters have approached Marscheider and police after the show to say they were abused as children.
Some had never told anyone until that day.
``Sometimes the stories are so bad we come back to the studio and cry our eyes out,'' Marscheider said. ``And then we have to pick up a few puppets and do something crazy to let off steam.''
What the statistics don't reveal is the preventive quality of the show, the number of children who learn to say no when touched the wrong way.
Marscheider said a principal once told her about a girl whose uncle tried to abuse her. The girl told the principal, ``I remembered that Simon said I could say no.''
While the children who laugh and learn from the puppets inspire Marscheider, the ones who disclose abuse still tear at her heart.
``Your heart goes out to them and you melt,'' Marscheider said. ``You want to take some of their pain. But you know the abuse can stop the day we are there. And that makes a difference.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
GARY C. KNAPP
Surrounded by puppets in her Beach studio, Regina Marscheider says
the production of the shows and training videos have consumed her
life.
by CNB